The 25-year-old who's afraid of the dark and eats poop

Obviously, as you can tell from the title, it's been a rough week.

Aaron has been out of the country for work related stuff and I have been left all by my lonesome in our Singaporean flat. I was kind of excited about this at first, but I got over that after my first night.

I forgot that I don't like sleeping in a place all by myself. I forgot this information up until the night he left, of course.

It's because I grew up in a house with four siblings and two parents. There were always at least two other people staying in the house with me at any given time. There was always noise and there was someone else there to intercept the Boogie Man first (my room was at the end of the hall).

I moved out of that house and into a college dorm filled with over 300 other people, then into an apartment with three roommates, and then into another apartment with two roommates.

I always knew that any noise in the night was because of someone else I lived with and any movement was one of them getting up to go the bathroom.

But the game changes when you're alone. You can't blame any of that on anything other than rapists, serial killers and the Boogie Man. Did I tell you about my very active imagination?

This is its specialty.

When I'm sleeping in a place by myself, I agonize over every creak, every click and every whistle I hear. I think I see movement in every dark shadow. Then, when I freak myself out enough, I turn on a few lights and then can't sleep because the lights are on.

So with Aaron gone and me living in a jungle-like area, I virtually get no sleep. I have tried sleeping with the TV on, but it wakes me up. I have tried sleeping with the hall light on, but it wakes me up. I even tried to suffer through a dark, noiseless night and that lasted until my colorful imagination thought that an axe murderer was in the kitchen. (It was the inverter clicking in the living room.)

Basically, I'm a 25-year-old woman who is afraid of the dark.

It's an awesome trait to have as an adult. And that is a lie.

So after several nights with very little restful sleep, it would be safe to say that my week has not been going so great to start with.

But of course, it doesn't stop there.

After spin class this morning, I came home to shower and eat some breakfast. I poured myself a bowl of Froot Loops (cause nothing's better than wrecking a workout with sugary cereal, duh) and began chomping away.

Halfway through the bowl, I noticed that one of loops had a really dark speck lodged in the center of it. At first I thought it was one of those burnt pieces that occasionally ends up in various snack food bags. Then I recalled the I'd never seen a burnt anything in Froot Loops. So I picked out the suspicious loop and poked the blackish stuff. It was gooey and slimy.

It was freaking gecko poop.

A gecko had gotten into our bag of Froot Loops, had a field day, used a piece of cereal as his personal toilet and then skedaddled. He didn't even grant me the decency to let his presense in my cereal be known before I ate his little reptile commode.

I ate a bowl of cereal covered in gecko dung.

Worst. Realization. Ever.

So I did what any rational woman would do...

I started bawling.

Not that it solved anything, but I just had no other outlet at the time to release my frustration. It was just one of those times when you just deal with so many things for so long that it builds and builds and builds and the gecko poop was the straw that broke Megan's back.

And I opened the waterpark.

Looking back, I really hope none of my neighbors heard the hysterical woman in my house. That'd be an awkward conversation later.

"I heard someone crying in your house yesterday. Is everything alright?"

"Oh yeah, that was just me. Don't worry."

"Oh no! Is everything ok?"

"It's fine. I just couldn't sleep all week because I'm afraid of the dark and then I ate some gecko poop."

Yeah. Let's hope for that not happening.

On a positive note, I'm really looking forward to tomorrow. I'm sure it will be a much better day.

Honestly, I don't think it can get much worse than eating poo.